


High knees

by yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Body Dysphoria, M/M, Modern AU, Quarantine, grantaire is the best boyfriend, mentions of eating disorders, we all stan chloe ting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh/pseuds/yourdadjustcallsmeKatyUNHhhh
Summary: Deciding in lockdown to secretly do home workouts with your best friend was never a good idea.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	High knees

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Hope you enjoy this. A little TW- nothing too explicit but mentions of being unhappy with your body and not wanting to eat are mentioned. Leave comments and kudos!  
> x

Grantaire wasn’t one to complain.

In fact, since being with Enjolras, and constantly surrounded by the sickeningly optimistic Les Amis, he had learnt to actually be grateful for things in his life, whether that be the movie nights with the unholy trinity (Joly, Boss and Chetta), his boyfriend’s pretty hair that he curls his fingers in every night in bed, or the fast growing collection of potted plants he and Jehan had been littering his balcony with.

All in all, he couldn’t complain.

And that’s why, despite being in the middle of a fucking global pandemic, his spirits were still undampened. Well, that was until Enjolras had forced him out of the apartment to do the weekly food shop for the third time in a row.

He didn’t argue. Hell, he knew that living with his boyfriend, but also the most opinionated person in the whole of the country, was not going to be particularly easy in lockdown, however they had managed to avoid a big blow out issue just yet by Enjolras presenting him with a contract, a fucking paper contract, that he had written out with Grantaires fancy charcoal pencil, on the first day of quarantine, banning all talk of controversial political views that could end in an argument. Grantaire was almost ready to disregard that entire contract that moment, because his pencil!

So when Enjolras, curled up into the brunet’s side with his laptop sporting a half finished essay balancing precariously on his knees, turned to Grantaire with doe eyes and asked in the smallest voice “fancy doing the shop this week?” Grantiare had to bury his head in Enjolras’ mop of golden curls to prevent him from seeing the agressive eye roll.

“And when is it gonna be your turn, mister? Am I your slave?” Grantaire responded, pulling the boy tighter against him in hopes he would be too comfortable to let the brunet move.

“I promise I’ll go next week! I just really need to finish this essay,” he giggled against R’s side. “And to make it up to you, I’ll make dinner tonight!”

The blond knew exactly what he was doing, and watched with a shit-eating grin as his boyfriend jumped up from his corner of the couch to grab his coat and his wallet that contained the shared card which held money for rent and food. Grantaire shook his head with a grin.

“Forget dinner, I’ll do the food shop for the next year if you promise not to ever make dinner again.” He was referring the remenants of lasagne that after three months, were still stuck to the dish that was now residing in the skip outside their apartment complex. It was safe to say Enjolras couldn’t cook for the life of him, and the title of chef had righteously fallen to Grantaire.

“You’ve got a deal,” Enjolras promised, waving his pinky finger in the air, Grantiare making his way over to hook it in his own pinky, pressing a peck onto his pouted lips and a ruffle of his hair before he set off, making sure to grab a mask Joly had lovingly created for each of them, and the hand-sanitiser Combeferre had bestowed on them.

“Love you!” He shouted, before slamming the door shut.

———

He crammed the last bag into the passenger seat of his car and hopped into the driver’s, taking a few moments to catch his breath. It was surprisingly busy at the shops, and Grantaire made a mental note to tell Enjolras how he had to queue outside for a good 20 minutes before going in. He hoped he would feel bad enough to volunteer to brave next week, but he didn’t pin his hopes on it.

In fact it was probably the most sensible idea for Grantaire to go, knowing that with the 8 full bags of groceries currently sat next to him, Enjolras would have probably called Grantiare to drive over and help carry it to the car, not wanting to bother the key workers who already had enough on their plate than to deal with a 21 year old man who couldn’t carry all his groceries at once. He smiled at the thought.

And as he pulled to a squeaky stop outside the building, hearing the god-awful pop tune on the radio stop suddenly, he half debated whether to call Enjolras and tell him to get his lazy ass downstairs to help him carry everything up. It was hot outside, the sun blaring and Grantaire could feel himself getting sweaty at the thought, but he eventually decided against it, knowing the blond wouldn’t be much help if he tried, memories of the pair of them lifting the new king-sized mattress up the stairs a few months ago making Grantaire smirk. He remembered the way Enjolras stopped for a “breathing break” every 15 seconds, and as he took his hands off it and no notable weight shifted over to Grantiare, he became aware of the fact Enjolras was actually doing very little lifting.

And so he braved the heat, grabbed four bags in each hand and began the ascent up to the 6th floor.

“I- Swear- to-fuck- Enjolras, I-Am-not -doing this- next week” Grantaire grunted you himself as he stomped up the final three steps with a bit more vigour than what was nessecary. It didn’t help that 3 of the 8 paper bags were already tearing at Enjolras’ refusal to ever use plastic bags. He stopped suddenly. As he edged closer to the door of the flat, he could hear bopping music that was definitely not Enjolras’ type coming from inside the door. After a few more steps closer he could even make out a few voices. At this point, he was extremely confused.

He fished his keys out of his pocket just as the words “knees up” blared out loudly, and Grantaire furrowed his brows, locking his keys between his teeth as he grasped the bags from his feet and quietly dropped them in the hallway of the flat, edging closer to the living room where he could now make out the voice of Courfeyrac.

“Fucking hell Enj, I want to cry!”

Now he was extremely confused. They were on lockdown- and Enjolras was not one to break the rules, so why was Courf here? He took a few more silent steps towards the living room before peering around the corner and being greeted with the shock of his life.

There, in full glory, was Enjolras baring nothing but the red booty shorts Bahorel had got him as a joke last Christmas, which had the words “Enemy of the State” written in comic sans across the ass. There was Enjolras, on his last 15 seconds of high knees, with the woman on their TV screen cheering him on, completing the excercise herself. There was Enjolras, panting and sweaty, his hair tied into a ponytail who had not yet noticed the intrusion of his boyfriend. And there was Courfeyrac, on facetime next to the TV screen, who Grantaire could judge from a squint, was wearing a very similar attire to his blond friend and was also completing the last stretch of high knees, between complaining about how his “legs are gonna fall off”.

And like I said, Grantaire was not one to complain, so after snapping a quick picture of his boyfriend from behind, now involved in star jumps, he switched to text and began typing out a message.

Pain in the Rse (16:43) : Where are u rn?

Ferre Bear (16:45) : Literally coming up the stairs to my flat, I’ve just finished work, why?

Pain in the Rse (16:45) : It will all make sense in a sec :)

Ferre Bear (16:45) : ...

Ferre Bear (16:47) : OH MY GOD

Ferre Bear (16:47) : IS THAT ENJOLRAS ON FACETIME?

Ferre Bear (16:48) : WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Grantaire chuckled quietly, hearing the voice of the famous fitness youtuber announce the next step of the workout.

Pain in the Rse (16:50) : a chloe ting workout it seems

Ferre Bear (16:51) : Is she the one who’s workouts Joly keeps sending us?

Pain in the Rse (16:51) : ding ding ding!

Ferre Bear (16:53) : Right, well as cute as this is, I am in full view of your boyfriends crotch right now, so i’m going to break this little soirée up.

And right on cue, Grantaire heard a scream which was unrecognisably Courf’s, Combeferre’s chuckles, and within seconds of promising the same time tomorrow, Courfeyrac’s sweaty face disappeared from Enjolras’ laptop screen and he pressed pause on Chloe Ting just as Grantaire made his entrance.

“If this is what I’m going to get greeted with every time I leave the house, I might volunteer to go shopping more often”

And it was Enjolras’ turn to scream, grabbing a nearby cushion and throwing it at Grantaire who caught it swiftly in his hands with a grin, tossing it aside and instead grabbing his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around him as they collapsed on the sofa.

“I didn’t realise you’d be back yet” Enjolras mumbled into the grey fabric of Grantaire’s shirt, shoving him playfully to try and silence his giggles.

“What was that about? You never do cardio! And don’t get me started on Courf- he probably couldn’t even spell it!” He smiled, tucking a sweaty strand of golden curl behind the blond’s ear.

It was Enjolras’ turn to snicker, shuffling slightly to get him a comfier position, tucked under Grantaire’s arm. “Me and Courf wanna get fit” he shrugged, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and lacing his fingers with his own.

Grantaire frowned. The amount of times Enjolras had refused to go to the boxing studio with Bahorel and him were countless, with protests that he hated all forms of excercise which made you sweat. Even the look of utter disgust when Grantaire had jokily asked if he wanted to go to the gym with him and Feuilly was enough to remind Grantiare never to ask again.

“But you hate exercise babe?” He continued, narrowing his eyes to look at Enjolras who was drawing shapes on his broad chest.

“I changed my mind.” Enjolras said shortly, signifying it was probably the end of that conversation. However, one thing could be said about Grantaire, and that was he didn’t always think before he spoke.

“I brought those cheesecakes you love for desert, Enj. For a little treat.” He said, his stomach already grumbling at the thought.

“You can have mine.” Enjolras offered, reaching for the remote control to switch off the workout onto some movie channel. Grantaire sat up quickly. Something was wrong. Enjolras never turned down those cheesecakes.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his mouth catching up with his brain, and squinting at Enjolras, who had a little frown of worry etched onto his face.

“Nothing’s wrong dumbass.” He laughed hollowly, attempting to lie back down onto his boyfriend, but with no such luck, the man in question pushing him up and facing him firmly.

“You love those cheesecakes.” He reminded him.

“Grantaire leave it, I just don’t feel like it tonight,” Enjolras swallowed quickly, diverting his gaze and got up to start putting away the groceries that were still bagged up and discarded in the hallway. Grantaire followed him into the kitchen, beginning to put together the pieces.

“Need some help?” He asked, hopping onto the counter top and watched as Enjolras began putting away things in the refrigerator. He shook his head.

Grantaire watched a little longer, his eyes not tearing from Enjolras’ face. He looked small, conflicted. Only when Enjolras brushed past him to put some rice in the cupboard did Grantaire grab his hand, turning him around to force him to look at him.

“Enjolras,” he started, raising his eyebrows to know he was being serious. “What’s going on?” bringing Enjolras to stand between his parted legs.

“Nothing, I-“ He began, before locking eyes with Grantiare who looked visually unimpressed with his lies. “Me and Courf just...” He trailed off, looking away from Grantiare and his suspicious gaze.

“You and Courf what?” He questioned further, cupping his hand on the blond’s delicate cheek, refusing to let this subject drop.

He could tell Enjolras was struggling to find the words to say at first, stuttering over mumbles until he let out a groan.  
“We just want to get muscly like you and Ferre.” And only when he locked eyes with Grantaire again did he see his blue marble eyes shiny with tears.

“What do you-?” Grantiare started slowly, before Enjolras cut him off.

“I’ve always been skinny, and so has Courf. Courf can get away with it because he’s smaller than me, but I just look...” He trailed off again, shrugging and looked away. “Disgusting.” He finished in a small voice. Grantaire found his mouth had gone dry. He was trying to find the words to say before Enjolras carried on.

“We decided we would make the most of lockdown, follow a workout and get all buffed up. We would do it when you and Ferre were out of the house, so when Ferre was at work, I’d send you off to the shops.” He ran his tongue around his teeth nervously before groaning. “You’re perfect. You’re strong and athletic and I’m just... me”

Grantaire shook his head at that, clapping his hand over Enjolras’ mouth with one arm, and using his other hand to lead him back into the sitting room, sitting him down on the sofa as Grantaire knelt beside him.

“Enj babe, don’t you realise? I couldn’t give a flying fuck about how muscly you are, or whether you workout regularly or not. I fell in love with you because you’re you, and I don’t want you changing that to try and be like me. I’m not exactly someone to aspire to be.” He laughed nervously before taking Enjolras’s clammy palm and continuing. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re so perfect the way you are. I love your body. I love the way you look in my arms every night when we are going to sleep. I love the way you can’t always reach everything on the top shelf. I love the way you look in those stupid shorts” He laughed, gesturing at the hideous red fabric Enjolras was still sporting, the blond giggling through silent tears. 

“Please don’t change,” Grantiare said, a little quieter this time. “You’re perfect the way you are, and I love every inch of you.”

At this, Enjolras slid off his spot on the couch and placed himself in Grantaire’s lap, wrapping his bare legs around the brunet’s back, and burying his head in his neck as Grantaire knotted his fingers in his golden mane, kissing him affectionately.

“What do you say to those cheesecakes?” Grantiare whispered into his ear with a smile, leaving Enjolras erupting into a fit of laughter, jumping up to run to the fridge to grab them, and a singular spoon, Grantaire grabbing the remote control to turn the sound up on Harry Potter and a blanket, ready to wrap it round a still half naked Enjolras when he returned from the kitchen with an excited grin on his face.

And as they sat, scoffing sickly cheesecake on the floor with a blanket wrapped around their two bodies, Enjolras leaning on the brunet as they watched the movie, Grantaire made a vow:

That night, he would show Enjolras just how much he loved every inch of him.


End file.
